Wayward Sons
by Dynamic Duo Inc
Summary: Kaslin and Mairon of Dynamic Duo Inc bring you a SelfInsertion of truly epic proportions!
1. It Must Have Been Something You Said

Hello. I am Kaslin, self-proclaimed leader of the Dynamic Duo. This is our first fanfic and Marion and I want to try and make it one worth reading. Action! Excitement! Romance! Comedy! Together we will strive to write a good self-insertion involving the two of us. We eagerly will eat up and devise an answer to any and all reviews given to the fic. We both take criticism well and would really appreciate it, as long as it isn't "_U SUK LOL DIE!!!!1_" or anything along those lines. For the first few chapters we will be jumping back and forth with who writes, but as it progresses we will both be forming together to form Kasrion and write the chapters in unison.

Disclaimer: Kaslin and Marion claim no rights to Naruto, or anything else that is mentioned in this work of fiction beyond the characters of Sean and Brent... You know, because we kinda own ourselves.. All respect is paid towards Masashi Kishimoto, Jump Comics, VIZ Media, Shonen Jump, BANZAI! And Weekly Comic. This is a work of fan-fiction and is not to be used in any way so as to gain material or monetary value.

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--Chapter 1: It Must Have Been Something You Said.-- 

"Hey Nukka, it's your week for snacks," Zac called across the basement. The snack man in question was sitting on the computer learning the fine art of web slinging from an extremely addictive flash game involving a stick figure, two wires and scenery composed of blots made in MSPaint. Open in a browser in the background was a play list of AMV's hosted on Youtube; the current selection being Harder Better Faster Stronger; a Ranma ½ video compromised of Ranma and Ryouga beating the tar out of each other.

After plummeting to his death for the umpteenth time during the 'red minefield of death' our unlikely hero decided to give up for the moment and face that demon some time later on, for Zac was hungry and he could do with a bag of Cheetos himself. "Yeah, hang on. Go see if we can get the Van." Zac, wearing only a pair of heart boxers flew up the basement steps to ask his parents while Sean got off the computer chair and looked around for his hoodie.

Sean was staying with his friends Zac and Anthony. Zac was an almost anorexic looking kid with hair so curly it could easily be mistaken for a bird's nest. He was an extremely charismatic person people just couldn't help but like. It must have been the way he always seemed to be in a good mood and the air of confidence he gave off. Anthony, the older of the two, on the other hand was a fairly stocky guy and had roguish good looks about him. He was a gun-nut, a hippie pacifist, the movie/blockbuster guy and Karate noobie all rolled into one. He was staying with the two of them because of his lack of a driver's license and the proximity of their place and his place of work.

It didn't take him long to find his hoodie lying sprawled out over the futon that was his bed. Sean loved his big black hoodie. He loved it because it was big enough to hide his girth. Now, he wasn't horribly overweight mind you, but he had a gut. Being a martial artist, this irked him to no end because it never seemed to go away. He had just come to assume that he had a low metabolism, but that could have just been him trying to find excuses.

Zac returned from upstairs, sans their ticket to a warm trip to the store. "We're walking."

"Damnit… It's so nippley out." Sean whined slightly as he pulled his shoes on. It had been about twenty below outside with the wind-chill, which was much less than would be considered comfortable with only a hoodie on with a t-shirt underneath.

The pair headed outside after Zac put some pants on. The two joked around while talking about D&D and various martial maneuvers to add to the Davis School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. One of such techniques involved vehicular manslaughter while the other had something to do with buying a girl dinner. As they were passing by the Great Canadian Dollar Store something caught Zac's eye; a group of two guys were pushing and shoving a girl around, shouting indistinct things that our intrepid duo couldn't quite hear over the distance between them. There weren't any streetlights where they were and the dollar store had closed for the night.

The area wasn't all that well lit, and was boxed on two sides by a seven foot picket fence and the store wall boxed the third side. It was big enough to park three or four cars in and was most likely employee parking.

The pair of thugs didn't look like they were being very friendly to the girl at all, shoving her around violently and shouting what must have been hurtful things at her.

Turning to Zac Sean told him to run to a nearby house and call the cops while he would stay behind and make sure the two guys didn't leave and make sure it didn't get out of hand. It didn't take much convincing before Zac reluctantly ran off as fast as his scrawny chicken legs could carry him while Sean knelt down behind a bench to stay out of sight. Not even a minute had passed when the larger of the two boys delivered a savage uppercut to the girl's stomach, causing her to go down like a sack of bricks, coughing and hacking; obviously crying.

Something napped in Sean. He felt it had to stop this before it went even farther. He stepped out of hiding. "Hey!" he shouted loudly, trying to be as intimidating as he could, which probably wasn't a whole lot. It had the desired effect and both of the men stopped what they were doing and looked at the nineteen-year-old would-be savior.

"What the fuck do you want?" one of the thugs calls out. He is the skinnier of the two and had been doing most of the physical abuse towards the girl, who was now sobbing quietly, curled up beside a pile of her own vomit. The other, slightly taller one was of about above average build and looked like he wasn't scarred of a little tussle.

Sean's legs were shaking with excitement and adrenalin. He stepped forwards, apparently fearless in his movements, but inside he was scared senseless. "Leave her alone!" His voice gave way a little bit, showing a moment of weakness- a big mistake this early in the game.

Skinny's face erupts into a shit-eating grin as he saunters forwards. The big guy follows suit. "It's none of your business. Fuck off before we decide to fuck you over too." Sean had stopped moving forwards, but the thugs had continued their advance, breaking apart so as to flank him a little. Clothing wise both of the young men appeared to be rather well off financially; designer jackets, nice jewelry, but neither of them looked smart enough to afford it.

"Look, I don't want to-" Sean was cut off as a huge right hook slammed into his left cheek from the taller of the two. He reels backwards and staggers to gain his balance. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but the punch lacked any real leverage from the rest of the boy's body. Far form a knockout punch. A bit dazed he surprised himself when he reacted so quickly to the follow up left hook. Bringing both hands up into a boxing stance he deflects the man's wild punch with a strong tap to his wrist, sending the fist crashing into his elbow, a brutal yet effective Muai Thai block.

Knuckles slammed against elbow and there was a loud sound of fingers being popped out of joint and the crack of fingers breaking altogether. The feeling of bone breaking against his skin freaked Sean out a bit, but he couldn't help but get a strange sense of pleasure out of it. The boy's hand was a mangled mess as he yelled out in pain and tried to back off, nursing his fingers. Overcome with a surge of pride and adrenalin he took the attack of opportunity and followed through with a vicious Muai Thai kick to the man's ribs, causing him to go down. With the biggest threat gone he turns to face the skinny guy to give him a piece of his mind. His face hurts and he can feel himself already being a little punch drunk, but he's been kicked in the head harder before, and none of those times did he ever have the amount of adrenalin moving through his body than he did at that moment.

As he turns on the smaller of the two he saw a face tinged with fear and horror as he brought his hand away from Sean's chest and stumbled backwards. Fear he could easily understand considering what he had just done to the other guy, but it was the look of horror that filled him with a bit of confusion. The girl screamed and Sean finally noticed why. A six-inch kitchen knife was protruding from his ribs. It was strange, he couldn't feel the pain, but instead was filled with a surreal feeling. He reached out and grabbed the man's jacket and pulled him close, his arms shaking. He tried to speak but instead coughs, spraying blood from his lips onto the man's face, showering him with bloody freckles.

Sean finally fells to his knees and then finally down onto his side. Skinny dashed off in fear and the bigger guy didn't seem to be going anywhere soon; his ribs were probably broken.

Sean's vision grew a bit hazy. The girl was staring at him horrified, tears running down her cheeks. Sean's hand clutched at his chest as the pain finally begun. It hurts so much. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. Tears clouded his vision as fear of the unknown clouded his mind. He never was religious and death scared him more than he would care to admit. His eyes stayed locked on the girl's eyes as he fought for every breath he took. This was it. He was going to die here on the cold pavement in a pool of his own blood.

Twelve years of martial arts training, all for one single fight. His entire life snuffed out by a single thrust of a knife. His eyes couldn't leave hers. She looked absolutely horrified, but she had stopped crying, staring transfixed at the boy who had fought to protect her and had paid the greatest sacrifice. His face betrayed his thoughts. A look of fear crossed his face as at thoughts of what is to come. His features showed the fear of his death, then a look of hope that the paramedics may be able to save him. A look of absolute sorrow finds his face as he thought about his friends and family. His thoughts drift to the face of a girl he never got to kiss. Never got to hold the way he had always wanted to. He watches as his vision of her flicker and fade into nothingness, because she never really existed.

And then a new look slowly began to adorn his features; acceptance. Stranger still, pride graced his lips as he looked at the girl who sat transfixed by his dying state. He coughed, blood spattering the ground in front of him, his vision blurring. The girl's eyes never did seem to fade from his view. His life wasn't wasted. 'Is this what destiny feels like?' He had finally put his skills to the ultimate test. This is why he had become a martial artist: to protect the weak and the fallen. Tears stained his face.

The girl slowly inched her way forwards on all four as Sean grumbles something. She can't make it out, but feels that she needs to hear it. An overwhelming feeling of importance floods her. The final words of her savior grace her ears in the form of a croaked voice."

A feeling of overwhelming pride and what can only be described as 'one-ness' fills his core. "Don'tchya cry no more..." With those final words passing through his bloodied lips Sean's labored breathing came to an end. He laid his weary head to rest and let the feeling of cold and darkness cover him like a long lost security blanket. His eyes never left the girl, even long after they lost their life. She barely noticed the police arriving on scene, nor did she notice the scrawny kid who knelt at her savior's body, trying to check for life in his lost friend and shouting frantically for him to wake up. This… This stranger had just given his life for her, and had died smiling at her.

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Sean opened his eyes slowly as he groggily regained consciousness to stare at a ceiling with little four pointed star stickers on it and sun shining through a window to his left. The first thoughts to come to his sluggish mind are 'Unfamiliar ceiling…'

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End notes: 

Ahh, the end of a chapter always feels the sweetest. 2012 words and also strangely enough the year the Mayan calendar ends. A cookie to those that caught the references I put here and there and in the titles. I love references and my chapters will be riddled with them for you to find. If anyone would like to Beta please send me us message and we can get something going because we would really like to have a proofreader or two. This area is also where I will hold reviews for the last chapter I wrote. This is Kaslin signing out. Expect another chapter soon.

-Kaslin


	2. Dying Comfortably Numb

Hey everyone, this is Mairon of Dynamic Duo Inc. As a fan of several works, I think it's really cool when people who leave reviews get comments from the author, so I'll reserve this section for kudos and such in later chapters. I might return to this chapter and make some improvements after submitting it, since this is my time ever finishing a chapter of a story that I wanted to write. 

Hm…there isn't a whole lot that I can say that my friend hasn't already said in his chapter. I guess the most important thing to repeat is that neither I nor Kaslin own Naruto, or any of the songs or company products mentioned. Those things are owned and copyrighted by their respective owners. Also, this cannot be used in any way that would provide the user with material or monetary benefit. With that out of the way, everyone, welcome to the jungle.

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Chapter 2 – Dying comfortably numb 

Looking up from his textbook to the alarm clock resting on the table next to his computer, Brent hung his head when he saw the time. Sighing, he says to himself "God damn, seven o'clock already". It was Saturday night and he had two mid-terms at the beginning of the coming week, so his only companions were his university textbooks. Morale was low but, fortunately, he had his reliable hands for a boost if he needed it. Running a hand through his short, brown hair and pushing his glasses into a comfortable position on his nose, he reluctantly turned his attention back to the textbook in his lap. The room wasn't really intended for study, despite the fact that there were two desks in the relatively spacious apartment room. One desk had his new computer on it, and the other one was covered with all kinds of junk that would otherwise be on the floor as there was no good place to put it.

Hearing the opening notes to the song _Keep on Rocking in the Free World_ (by Neil Young) flow from his computer's speakers, Brent stopped what he was doing and closed his eyes. It was one of his favourite songs, though it didn't have a place on the quiet sounding play list he thought he had created. He really liked the song, especially the lyrics, and figured it was a nice break in the atmosphere.

I see a woman in the night

With a baby in her hand

Under an old street light

Near a garbage can

Now she puts the kid away,

and she's gone to get a hit

She hates her life,

and what she's done to it

There's one more kid

that will never go to school

Never get to fall in love,

never get to be cool.

Hearing these lines, particularly the strength and finality in which that word "never" is said brings on a wave of emotions that washes over the university student. Thinking about how the song pointed to all that was wrong with the world, he couldn't help but feel angry. "Fuck the world" Brent thinks to himself. Selfishness, hatred, all of the negative parts of the human being had done so much to destroy the world and those living on it; corrupting leaders, sparking war, sustaining pollution, the list goes on and on. Sure, there was still hope for humanity, but it would take too much effort on the part of too many people for salvation to be plausible in his mind.

The sound of the front door (which wasn't too far from his room) opening, saved him from his thoughts, and he turned his attention to the sounds of familiar people that now echoed through the old apartment. It sounded like his two roommates, one of his friends, and…maybe two other people they knew. Closing the textbook, Brent got up off the bed and went to go see what was up for tonight. In need of some kind of escape or distraction from the thoughts and feelings Neil Young's song evoked, he figured he could always study all of Sunday if he needed.

The guys had all piled into Jack's room and were getting ready to watch something on the TV when Brent got to the door. "Well, look who it is" Jack says with a laugh upon noticing Brent in the doorway. "Hey guys, what's going on tonight?" Brent replies, a smile spreading across his face. "Drinking, TV, you know – the usual" says Alex, "We're going to call and order some beer now, you in?". "Yeah, I'll get a quart of Captain Morgan and…I guess a two litre bottle of coke" Brent replies after some thought. "Are you sure you can handle that? You were drunk after drinking that pint when we watched Beer Fest at the university". Alex had a good point, Brent had only recently started drinking, and even then not nearly often enough to handle a quart of rum, but he figured he wasn't going to be drinking all of it tonight. A mischievous grin slithered across Brent's face, "I've got an exam next Monday and Tuesday, so I'll save some to kick back with after those are done". He then adds "Gotta have something to relax with right?", to which Alex lazily replies "I guess". Once everyone had figured out what they wanted, Alex went to call the delivery company and placed the order before everyone got settled down to watch some episodes of South park. By the time the alcohol got there, Brent had figured out how he was going to manage what little amount of money he had to cover the cost of his booze. It meant no groceries for a week, no laundry money, and no spare change; but after a few glasses of rum and coke he knew he made the right choice.

Good times were had by all until around nine o'clock, when John, Brent's other roommate, slurred the suggestion that they all go a bar. Most of them drank fairly often, and could handle beer pretty well, so Alex was okay with bar hopping as long as he didn't have to pay cover and Jack was pretty easy going, so he didn't mind. One of the other guys had left a bit earlier, much to the disapproval of Jack and Alex, but the other guy was still around and up for the trip downtown. That only left Brent, lying down on the floor, caressing his half-full glass of booze with his right hand and staring at it with a glazed look of adoration - giving even the most naïve of people a neon sign that he was drunk out of his mind. Upon hearing the suggestion Brent stopped caressing his glass, snapped his arm straight, pointing either to the door or supposedly an attempt to point into the air, and declared in a heroic, drunken slur "Lesh gooo!". Normally he didn't like the idea of going to bars because the drinks were more expensive than simply buying it at the liquor store, but the loving hazing of alcohol persuaded him that it would be an adventure of epic proportions. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm was rebuked by Alex, who promptly responded with "Your way too drunk to go bar hopping". "Jushh give me watar… an' an hour an'… I'll be fine!" Brent responded, slowly pushing his half empty glass away from him. It took some time, but Brent eventually convinced them to wait an hour while he got sobered up, as well as get himself countless glasses of water. The hour passed by rather quickly, and Brent managed to sober up enough to walk at a slow pace, a big improvement from using the wall to lean against while walking (which is how he got the kitchen by himself). The epic adventure was about to begin!

"God damn its cold out!" exclaimed Brent, shivering a bit as a gust of freezing cold wind blew against his face. His hoodie and leather jacket kept his upper body nice and warm, but the wind tore through his jeans like they weren't even there. Winter was a little late in coming to where he was living, but when it came, it was ridiculous. For a while, it snowed almost non-stop, and recently the temperature was unusually cold, in the -40 to -50 degrees Celsius range. "It wasn't this bad when we left…" says Alex, to which Jack chips in "Yeah, it wasn't like this, its bitchin' cold". Regardless, the group kept on, talking and joking the whole way to the downtown area, specifically a place Brent knew as "the tannery strip", where all the bars were conveniently clumped together. The first spot they hit was a bar called Seventh Mile, which was an establishment on that beloved verge between a decent joint and a dive. Brent always liked places like this, partly due to the influence of some of his favourite bands and partly because he felt places like these attracted more humble folk. That and these places didn't usually charge a cover.

Inside the bar wasn't too bad, pretty spacious actually. With the bartender's counter to the immediate right of the entrance, and the bathrooms to the left, your needs were met the moment you stepped in. Before the group was a large area that was cleared away, supposedly for dancing, though not much of it was going on aside from the squirming of two girls and a DJ set up on the left wall, playing rap or hip hop garbage. To the right of the dance floor where some tables and restaurant-style cushioned seats, the most notable occupants of which were a group of young guys that could be best described as a collection of horny grins. There were a little more than a handful of people in the same age range as Brent and the group, the rest were all people who looked at least in their mid-forties. "Must be the hangout for older people who still like drinking at a bar" Brent thought while looking around. The all wooden interior of the place was dimly light and very lightly decorated, and combined well with the scent of cigarettes that floated in the air.

Getting settled down with some drinks (which Brent stayed away from for awhile) at a table near the dance floor, it wasn't long before the idea of picking up was suggested. The only two single guys of the group were Brent and John and while Brent was usually reserved (a little different from being shy) around women, he was still wrapped in the loving embrace of what he liked to call 'liquid courage'. After putting the focus on John to try to find a girl, good times were had watching their friend stagger and flop over to one of the girls that were dancing. When John was shot down, it was Brent's turn to try his luck. His turn at the wheel of fortune netted him a shot at dancing with the curvier of the two girls, but it didn't take long for her to get bored with his lack of dancing skill. After his failed attempt to dance, Brent decided not to bother with the other girl and just enjoy the company of Captain Morgan. The rap music was getting a bit annoying at this point, and Jack and Alex's friend answered the prayers of at least a handful of people when he got the DJ to put some Motley Crue on. There was a big cheer from Brent and the horny grins when the song Girls, Girls, Girls started up, even some of the older people at the bar liked it, probably nostalgia. The joy was thoroughly enjoyed by all for barely a minute before one of the two dancing girls killed it by getting the DJ to switch it for more rap shit. Narrowing his eyes at the killjoys, Brent spat "Jeez, no class at all". He could easily see how the song might be offensive to women (or in this case girls, because they certainly didn't act like 'women'), but it was hardly any different than some of the rap songs, so he figured the girls just didn't care to tolerate a single song they didn't like. Even if the music was shitty, Brent was having a good time…it was good to hang out with the guys, to be included in their joking around and conversation. "Well guys, its been good, but I'm gonna run, I have work tomorrow morning", said the friend of Alex and Jack, after looking at his watch, rubbing his eyes in that signature exaggerated, drunken way. Curious about the time, Brent checked his watch. It was twelve-thirty – pretty early according to Brent's almost nocturnal sleeping pattern. "Damn…the group is gonna split up soon", thought Brent, disappointed that his company was going to disappear. Usually whenever someone from the group leaves during a night of hanging out; it isn't too long after that someone else leaves, almost like one prompts another.

Much to his displeasure, Brent was right, and at a quarter to one, John staggered his way back to the apartment, and Jack looked like he was getting tired. Brent thought he might be able to liven things up with some better music, and had the DJ put on a salute for those who rock. Before he could even get back to the table, he heard the music abruptly change back to the squawking of some punk to a high base rhythm. Shaking his head in disgust, he calls out to Alex and Jack, "Fuck the music here sucks, let's go some place else!". "Actually, I think I'm gonna head out" Jack says, struggling against a lack of energy and intoxication. "Yeah, I'm gonna go once I finish this glass", Alex piped up, "Sorry man", he added after seeing Brent's smile die. "Nah, it's alright, booze is too expensive these bars anyway" Brent replied, trying to mask his disappointment, "I'm gonna stick around for a bit longer though, try another place". And so Brent enjoyed the company of his friends for a little while longer.

After getting his coat and saying goodnight to Alex and Jack, Brent eased himself further down the tannery strip. The street had a lot of fancy dance bars; he really didn't like those – largely because you had to get 'dolled' up for them, which clashed with his casual style of dress and attitude. He was drunk again, though he didn't feel it was as bad as he was at the apartment. Talking wasn't a problem if he took it slower than his usual pace, and walking wasn't so bad either, as long as he could keep up his momentum and avoid the ice patches that splattered the sidewalk. He needed a place he could sit down and relax in. What he needed was another dive, and so he spent a half an hour walking up and down the street looking for a good place. It was around one-thirty or so when he found the Joker's Court, on the other side of the tannery strip. The place was a lot smaller compared to the wider spaces of the Seventh Mile, and it looked more like an old style bar than the Mile did – probably because the Joker's Court didn't double as a restaurant at certain hours of the day. Once inside, he let himself drop into one of the cushy table seats that were near the entrance. Before he could give the place better look over, he heard someone call out his name. Sluggishly, he turned his head in the direction of where the voice came from, and saw a girl he knew from years back. Her name was Emily, a close friend of a girl Brent went out with. Her appearance hadn't changed much; she was still pretty, when she got closer, he could see she still had a few freckles on her cheeks. Her dirty blonde hair was done up in a ponytail. She was wearing a waitress' apron over a pair of black pants and a dark green top. With a grin, he waved her over to his table. "Holy geez, it's been a while since I've seen you. How ya been?" he said, his head bobbing slightly. "Yeah, it has been a while, good to see you" She said with a smile, opening her arms up for a hug. Hugging her, he inquired "So what're you doing in this city, going to university?", "Nope! I'm just here working. It's been pretty busy tonight, so I gotta take care of the customers. But don't you go away okay babe? I'll drop by every now and again. Do you want anything to drink?". A devilish grin grew in the wayward adventurer's expression until it nearly split his face. "I would absolutely love a shot of tequila". Not a second after those words left his lips, he hung his head and whined, "But I gotta sober up or I won't be able to make it back, so I'll have a big glass of water, please". Adventures suck when there's no one to share them with…or help you walk home.

Time passed by quickly as Brent downed glass after glass of water, talking to Emily when she had a free minute. It was nice talking to her, she was cool. Before he knew it, it was two o'clock in the morning, and the bar was closing down, but Emily invited him to stick around so they could keep talking. It was good to hear that she was doing well, and getting news on all the people he knew through his old girlfriend. A lot of them had kids now, but that wasn't a real surprise to him, not after all he had seen and heard. It seemed like they talked forever, but the time eventually came to call it a night. Around quarter to four in the morning they parted ways after exchanging phone numbers to hang out again, and Brent started the trek back to his apartment. The night was pretty good all-in-all: he got to hang out with his friends, meet an old friend, and managed to convince the bartender, before he got off work, to give him a bottle of Jack Daniels that didn't have enough left in it for a shot.

It was even colder than it had been earlier in the night, around minus forty or more now, Brent figured. The streets were deserted, not even the night-time taxis were anywhere in sight. Every time the wind blew, he could feel a searing pain on his inner thighs, near his knees, where he had gotten frostbite earlier in the week from walking around in the cold. Nearly slipping on a patch of ice, he thought to himself that it really was a good idea to sober up enough to walk without any problems. With no money left for a cab to the apartment, it felt like it would be the longest half an hour walk of his life.

Things were going alright until he got past the downtown district and into the residential area. While he was walking past some houses, he heard someone yelling to the left of him. Then a door swung open and the footsteps and sobs of a girl could be heard. Because his hood was up, he had to turn his head a bit to see what was going on. It seemed that the girl had exited the house directly across the street from him, from a side door. She seemed about sixteen or seventeen years old, and was dressed like she was going to dance bar. She started walking in the same direction he was headed, wiping tears from her eyes. "Hm…must've snuck out and got caught", Brent thought to himself. Things seemed bad, but it was none of his business, even if he did want to ask her what was going on. He figured he'd probably just get snapped at, so there was no point. It got hard to believe that when the girl's father burst out of the front door and started yelling "Bitch! Get yer ass back in the house! I ain't done with you yet!". The girl screamed back at him to leave her alone, but he wasn't having any of it. Slapping her hard, he cursed at it "Get yer fuckin' whore ass back in the house! Bitch!". Sighing, Brent swore under his breathe and turned to face the scene. "Hey!", Brent shouted, feeling that familiar nervous feeling, "Leave her alone 'nd Fuck off!". The man, who seemed taller than him and was definitely a lot heavier by the looks of the beer gut he sported under his wife beater shirt, looked over at Brent. "Why don't you fuck off asshole? This is none of your damn business" the grisly looking fat man said to him. Trying to act tough, Brent grinned and said coolly "Yeah? 'Guess I'm makin' it my business now ain't I?" and swung the Jack Daniel's bottle he was carrying in his hand with all his might against a nearby telephone pole. As the bottom half of the bottle broke, leaving behind sharp edges, two thoughts passed through Brent's mind, "Holy shit, it actually broke…holy shit my booze!". Walking across the street towards the man, Brent held up the bottle to about eye level and shook it, saying "Now you better fuck off, or I'm gonna fuck you up real good". He sounded really pissed, and he was – how dare that prick hurt someone for what he deemed wrong when he had probably been treating her like shit her whole life. People like this fat man were to blame for the world being the way it is. Brent was hot with anger and ready to fight if he had to, but something unexpected happened. "Fuck you, you'kin keep her, she's nothing but a whore" the shit blob croaked, and turned back toward his house.

After the man slammed the door, Brent let out a big sigh of relief, letting his head hang. He couldn't believe that he didn't get his ass kicked. "Thank you" the girl squeaked, still the tears out of her eyes. "Nah, don't worry about. Everybody's lost in this world, you know? Gotta watch out for each other", Brent said, feeling his heart pounding against his chest. He then added, "Its freezing out, you have place to go to?". The girl nodded and replied "my friend's house is just down the street". Nodding, Brent looked back at the house the man waddled into and offered to walk her there since it was on his way home. Once she was at her friend's house, Brent tossed his broken, beloved souvenir into a snow bank and kept on walking. "What a night" he whispered to himself, "what's next?". Crossing the last road before the home stretch, Brent slipped on some ice and his head it the curb – hard. It would be hours before anyone found him, and it was so very cold out…

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And with that, this chapter comes to an end. Hopefully some of you enjoyed it. It was a little rough and dirty in some areas, but I guess that's how I see my life sometimes. Writing this fanfiction is a big undertaking because it forces me to be truthful about who I am, because that's part of what it's about, you know? Well, like my friend, Kaslin, said I'm open to good criticism and suggestions, and I might return to this chapter and give it a fine tuning. 


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